Promises of Spring
by slightlysickpsycho
Summary: Severus is haunted by the hatred he felt for James and the love he still feels for Lily. His interactions with Harry become rather complicated. On indefinite Hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The only part of this story I own is the plot.

Severus had always known the boy would be trouble. The simple fact that Harry had been conceived sent tremors of rage through his body. Lily Evans had been so much more than his first love- she had been the only ray of sunshine in a dark and unforgiving world. She was the only woman he had trusted since the death of his mother.

And that bastard James. Oh, he could have had any girl he wanted. could have been happy with almost any of them, too. He hadn't been particularly interested in Lily until the first time she defended Severus. James had seen the way the sullen teen's eyes lit up when he looked at her, and then he knew.

The love that eventually blossomed between Lily and James was undeniable, but no one chose to acknowledge that in the beginning she was nothing more to him than a challenge, a new conquest, and one more way to make Severus suffer. Since the day Lily had finally succumbed to James' relentless advances, Snape had stood alone. When his best friend turned her back on him, the way he saw things changed. Affection was a shallow and fleeting thing, a gift bestowed only to be torn away, leaving nothing but misery in its wake.

James loved Lily, yes, but he could never love her the way Severus loved her. James, whose life had always been simple, whose world was joyful and filled with light, would never fully appreciate the tiny constellations of freckles on her sun-kissed lower back. He would never notice how perfectly the hues tumbling through her hair matched the deep red glow of embers in the heart of a raging fire, or the way her knees got just a little weak when she laughed too hard.

More than anything, James would never get lost in those vivid emerald eyes. Severus remembered staring into them on warm summer nights, when they sat in the porch swing together, unable to speak because there were no words for the thoughts they shared. He would go to her broken, inconsolable, but when she looked at him he saw every shade of green imaginable intertwined in tiny tangled wisps, creating a kaleidoscopic and almost surreal depth.

Lily's eyes had comforted Snape with the unspoken promise that every bitter winter would eventually be swallowed by the warmth of spring, that from the darkness of a barren landscape, new life would someday emerge.

Severus had tried to save her. The night of her death it dawned on him that in all the years that had passed since he lost her, the passion he felt for her had never dwindled, never faltered. He had simply managed to bury deep within himself the agonizing need that refused to be extinguished.

He refused to look at Harry as an infant. The pain was too much to bear; the love of his life had died protecting a child who existed as the result of the most painful betrayal he had even experienced.

The decade between the night Voldemort fell and the day Harry was finally old enough to escape to Hogwarts rushed past Professor Snape so quickly he didn't realize that the dreaded time had come until he caught a glimpse of the disheveled black hair pushed down to cover the attention-drawing scar. He froze for a moment, staring in horror and disbelief at the child who looked and even moved exactly like James Potter had at his age.

Nothing could have prepared him for the first time he saw those eyes. The startling green called forth an avalanche of sweet, painful memories. Lily's eyes had been so unusual Professor Snape had never imagined that anyone else could be born with that beauty.

Anger coursed through his veins as he took in the sight, the eyes that had promised him a time when everything would bloom anew set in the face of the man who had casually stolen away his entire world.

This boy was going to be more trouble than he had thought.

A/N: Chapter 2 is already up on the home page listed on my profile- please check it out!

Also, leave a review and I'll love you forever. I'm even open to suggestions for future chapters :)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The only part of this story I own is the plot.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think! I'm open to suggestions.

Severus stared at his plate during the start of term feast, refusing to let his eyes linger for too long on the boy who looked so much like his father. It was hard to stifle the memories that the image of James in his first year brought back. His stomach twisted into the knots that had been so familiar during his time as a student at Hogwarts.

Teaching the boy was almost unendurable. At first it was only memories of James' torments that inflicted pain, but as those feelings began to subside, the ones replacing them were far worse.

Harry's resemblance to his father was strong, but as time passed, Severus became more aware of the differences between them. For one thing, the boy was much paler and thinner than his father had been. For another, he did not carry himself the same way. James had always walked with his head held high and his chest thrust forward, and though Harry tried to imitate this sort of confidence, his gaze often wandered to the ground in front of him and he had a habit of hunching forward when he thought no one was watching him, pulling his shoulders closer together almost as if he were trying to shrink out of existence.

When Harry stared back at him, face contorted with anger and defiance, he had to look into those eyes, Lily's eyes. It was wrong that such beauty should be bestowed upon the insolent little brat. Even as the rough approximation of James sat in front of him, he could see Lily, whispering that things would get better, promising that someday winter would end. Every time he made eye contact with Harry, the lie was being told again.

He tried to ignore Harry, but the boy took every opportunity to needle and provoke his professor. When he returned for his third year, Severus was shocked by the boy's appearance. He had grown considerably taller but did not appear to have gained much, if any, weight. His cheeks were sunken and the dark circles under his eyes had grown more pronounced. The child had looked almost healthy before leaving in the spring, now he looked as though he had been cursed. Severus was so concerned he felt compelled to discuss this matter with the headmaster.

"What are those muggles doing to him, Albus?" he hissed under his breath as they sat together at the staff table. Following the direction of his gaze, the older man responded mildly,

"Harry simply had a difficult summer, Severus, I'm sure he'll be fine once he's settled in."

"And what about next summer?"

"What do you mean?"

"Surely you won't be sending him back there."

"I wouldn't if there were any other option. We must think of his safety."

"His safety? They've clearly been starving him. Have you thought to check under his robes for injuries? I don't see how it's more humane to send him there to die than it would be to simply hand him over to the Dark Lord."

"Don't be absurd, Severus. Harry is a growing boy. He's probably having a hard time keeping up with his metabolism. Remember how thin you were at his age?"

He responded with a curt nod, understanding that the conversation was over, and spent the rest of the meal in contemplative silence, stealing glances at Harry. It was true, he had been rather slender at that age, but it hadn't been because of his metabolism. Most meals at home had ended with one of his father's violent outbursts, and at school, he had avoided the dining hall as often as possible in hopes of escaping the torments inflicted by his fellow students. He knew it wasn't his place to become involved, but this was still Lily's child, and he remembered what her sister Petunia had been like when they were young. He doubted that the woman had changed much.

Harry was sitting beside the youngest Weasley boy, who was talking animatedly to the bushy haired know-it-all across the table. Even from this distance, the green of his eyes stood out. His friend leaned over, speaking into his ear before elbowing him playfully in the ribs. Harry's wince of pain went unnoticed, and the boy made a quick exit soon after, smiling as he waved to his friends.

Severus rose from his seat at the head table and moved swiftly in the direction Harry had taken, determined to put his suspicions to rest once and for all. It didn't take him long to find the boy, sitting against the wall in a deserted corridor, knees pulled to his chest and eyes staring blankly ahead. It was only when he stood a foot away that the child started and looked up, eyes wild with fear. Hugging his knees closer to his chest, he looked up at the intimidating man before him.

"What do you want?" Severus could hear the effort it took for the boy to keep his voice steady.

"You look thin, Potter." his voice was low, softer than usual.

"Thanks." the sarcastic tone was laced with familiar pain.

"Are you unwell?"

"I'm fine, Professor." Harry stood on unsteady legs and turned to leave.

"Do not walk away when I am speaking to you. I think it's best we continue this conversation in my office." the boy turned chalk white, but stood his ground.

"I haven't broken any rules. What's this about? Why did you follow me here?"

"Come with me, boy." Severus wrapped his long graceful fingers around Harry's upper arm, leading him down several staircases and through vacant hallways until they had reached the dungeons.

Once the door had closed behind them, Harry spoke.

"What do you want?"

"I simply want to know what happened."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The face was James', but the expression he wore made him look so much like his mother… Severus felt the familiar twinge of pain in his stomach as he looked into Lily's angry eyes.

"You're injured. Why haven't you been to see Madam Pomfrey?"

"I'm fine."

Severus swiftly prodded the place the Weasley boy had elbowed Harry. The boy grimaced and nearly doubled over.

"Stray bludger." he gasped

"I was not aware you had been to practice yet. If you'll remove your robe I can heal that for you."

"No. It's fine." Harry's eyes, Lily's eyes, were wide with fear, making the child appear almost doe-like.

"That was not a request. Remove your robe."

Harry did as he was told, but did not take off any of the muggle clothing he wore underneath. Severus gestured for him to remove his shirt, and after shooting him a glare, Harry reluctantly complied.

It was hard not to gasp at what he saw. Cuts and bruises littered the boy's emaciated body.

"Your uncle did this to you." It was a statement, not a question.

"Please don't tell anyone." Emerald eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Potter." He muttered, still examining the damage.

"If this gets out…" his voice shook. "They all think I'm so strong, that I'm going to save the world. How am I supposed to kill Voldemort when I can't even stop my own uncle?"

Severus sighed, remembering why he had kept silent through so many years of abuse. Harry had a point. If anyone found out about this, it would change everything. He sighed and nodded, opening his desk drawer to remove a jar of the healing salve he prepared for use in the Hospital Wing.

"I won't speak of it. Turn around." Harry obeyed, praying that his secret will be kept. He rubbed a large amount of the salve on the boy's slender back before handing the jar to the boy.

"You may leave now." he said softly, handing Harry his shirt and robe, "Apply the salve to the rest of your injuries and they should heal within the next few days. I expect you to speak with me if they do not. And Potter," his voice was a low murmur in the boy's ear as he opened the office door, "I'll see to it that your uncle behaves in a more… _civilized_ manner from this point forward."

"Please, don't." Harry sounded terrified.

"Harry," the boy paused, hearing his first name coming from his professor's lips for the first time, "I can assure you that my methods are most effective, and that no one will ever know."

"Uh, thanks." Harry made a quick exit, and Severus pondered his next move.

A/N: Please check out the homepage listed in my profile! I will bribe you with early chapter postings ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: The only part of this story I own is the plot.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think!

Severus waited in the driveway of Harry's uncle's house, shifting uncomfortably in the stiff dark fabric of the muggle suit he wore. His visit, he knew, must go unnoticed. Finally the car pulled in, and the beefy red beast stood.

"Mr. Dursley," he said coolly, approaching the large man, "I think the time has come for us to have a little chat."

"Whatever you're selling, I don't want it."

"How can you be so sure?" Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

"Bugger off."

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Severus' tone had grown dangerous.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" The realization dawning on the idiot's face was followed by a look of utter terror.

"I'd prefer that we handle this before your wife and son come home." His voice was quiet, but the larger man's fumbling hands quivered as he unlocked the front door.

"Your kind have laws, don't they? You'll pay if you hurt me."

"Gladly." Severus tapped the handle with his wand and Dursley watched in awe as the door swung open. "Now I believe we have something to discuss."

"Harry." The large idiot spat.

"I will put this as simply as I can, so that even a man as depleted as yourself can comprehend my intentions. I am not a kind man, Mr. Dursley. There are methods of inflicting pain that leave no trace, pain you can't begin to fathom."

"Are you threatening me, freak?" Dursley was furious. "I have taken this boy into my home out of the kindness of my heart and will discipline him as I see fit."

"You are so very much like my father."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, boy."

"I can assure you, I am by no means flattering you."

"So you've taken a liking to Harry and now you think you can waltz in here and tell me how to run my home."

"I've never claimed to like Harry, Mr. Dursley. Between the two of us, I can't stand the little brat. But this entire conversation will stay between the two of us, if you know what is best for you."

"If you don't like Harry, what are you doing here?"

"As I said, Mr. Dursley, you remind me a great deal of my father. Sadly, he has passed away and it is not for me to know whether he will suffer the punishment he deserves. You, on the other hand, I can be sure of. And believe me when I tell you I sincerely hope you will give me reason to follow through.

"You have no right-"

"No, I do not. I can, however, see to it that you receive the treatment you deserve, even if I happen to be, shall we say, _incapacitated_ or otherwise unable at the time of your transgression."

"You're threatening me! I will not stand for-"

"Listen to me now, and listen carefully. I will not repeat myself. If Harry suffers further harm while under your care, the pain you endure will be far worse. If you so much as lay a hand on the boy, I will expose you to agony your shallow imagination cannot even begin to comprehend, and doing so will give me nothing but pleasure. Do not think your son is exempt from the same retribution. I have no qualms about hurting a boy of his age who has earned such treatment."

"How dare you?"

"No one will know about this meeting, Dursley." Severus loomed over the stout, beet-colored man, voice dripping with loathing. "You do not want to risk the consequences."

Severus could see the terror in Dursley's eyes, and knew his message had been conveyed. With a loud pop, he vanished.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The only part of this story I own is the plot.

Much to Severus' relief, the fat muggle uncle seemed to respect the danger that faced him if he spoke to anyone of their little meeting. Even more comforting was Harry's attitude toward him after the discussion they had had- the boy still eyed him with evident distrust, and made more of an effort than usual to avoid his professor.

Severus was not normally a man who acted on emotion and thought about the consequences later, but it was only after threatening Dursley that he realized how much he had risked by doing so. If word got out that he was protecting the little brat… or even worse, if Harry took a sudden liking to him, his allegiances would be called into question. This, of course, would greatly increase his chances of suffering a slow and painful death.

Still, he would occasionally catch the boy staring at him questioningly, almost hopefully, when Harry was sure no one was watching. It wasn't long before one afternoon in Potions when their eyes met, Harry's hand jerked sideways, causing a jar of pickled toad livers to shatter on the floor.

"Detention, Potter," he spat through gritted teeth, "and you will speak to me after class about your dangerous ineptitude."

Harry glowered at him while his bushy headed little friend knelt down to repair the jar, siphoning its vile, jelly-like contents back in before setting it tentatively on the table. Severus chose to ignore her for the time being.

He watched Harry wave his friends on as the class filed past his desk, presenting him with small vials of their decidedly sub-par finished work. The boy packed his school bag slowly, looking conflicted as he finally approached the front of the room.

"Mr. Potter, I believe there is something you wish to discuss?"

"You're the one who told me to stay." Those incredible green eyes made Severus' stomach twist with sadness, even as they stared out of Harry's childish glowering face.

"I am not an imbecile, Mr. Potter. I am fully aware that you knocked that jar over on purpose. Unless you simply enjoy my company," this last suggestion was made with a hateful sneer, "you must have wanted to speak with me alone."

"Well…" Harry looked decidedly uncomfortable at this point, and Severus started to wonder whether the boy had lost his nerve. He rose and strode gracefully over to the door, pushing it shut and shooting Harry an impatient glance. "I just- why were you so nice to me? That stuff you gave me really helped, and I appreciate it, but I don't get why you would do that. I thought at the very least people would eventually start finding out what happened, but…"

"Don't mistake this for anything it is not, Potter. It is my responsibility as your teacher to protect you from harm to the best of my ability, and I am not very fond of men like your uncle. I was fulfilling my obligations, and nothing more. Now is there anything else you'd care to discuss?"

"I guess not. Thanks for not telling everyone." Severus nodded, sliding the door back open, and the boy started to leave. Before Harry could walk away, he called out to him.

"Be back here at seven. Do not keep me waiting."

"Huh?" Harry turned, confused.

"Your detention, idiot. Do not expect special treatment simply because you are so socially inept you must break something to initiate a conversation."

"Oh, right." Looking uncomfortable and still somewhat puzzled, Harry walked away.

Severus would have to make sure no one ever found out what had transpired with the boy's uncle. He was seriously considering obliterating the memory of the afternoon Severus found Harry's wounds, but that would be too dangerous. Harry was not like most students; it was much more likely for the traces left by that magic to be discovered at some point, and the incident would be considerably harder to dismiss if he took steps to hide it. Unfortunately, for the time being, he would have to rely on the boy's discretion. Harry could not reveal what had happened without drawing attention to the abuse itself, and the boy knew better than to do anything that might show weakness to his enemies.

The rest of the day passed quickly, and before Severus knew it, it was 7:06 and Harry was bursting into the classroom, flushed and out of breath.

"You're late, Potter."

"Sorry, Professor. I got to dinner late and then-"

"Spare me the excuses. Just see that it doesn't happen again." Harry nodded, and stood waiting for further instructions. "Right… Tonight you'll be scrubbing cauldrons. Try not to break any."  
Harry rolled his eyes and set about his work. The boy had gained a bit of weight since summer; he was still rather thin, but his cheeks were slightly less hollow, and his once-weak form now carried the appearance of sinewy strength. Severus was surprised by how relieved he felt seeing the improvement in the boy's health. He knew it would be best to stay detached, but as the long hour drew closer to an end, he couldn't stop himself from initiating conversation.

"You know," he said, his voice devoid of its usual venom, "as much as I loathe your father, even now, you should know that your mother was a good woman, nothing like that nasty sister of hers."

The sound of scrubbing stopped, and the brush Harry had been holding clanged against the bottom of the cauldron. He looked up at his instructor.

"You knew her?"

"Yes." Severus did not know why he was telling the wretched child so much, but he couldn't stop himself from continuing. "She lived near me when we were children, and we went to Hogwarts together. We got along fairly well until… well, suffice it to say we had different taste in friends."

"You mean my father." if Harry had let his defenses fall for a moment, now they sprang back into place.

Severus nodded curtly, relief battling with disappointment at the topic's close. "Well, your hour's up. You may leave."

Harry paused on the way out, looking for a moment like there was something he wanted to say, but he must have thought better of it because before a single word escaped, he was in the hallway, rushing away from the classroom.

Closing the door, Snape sighed. Allowing himself to get attached to this boy would cause nothing but trouble and pain. He returned to his quarters, looking forward to the purifying burn of firewhiskey flowing down his throat.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: The only part of this story I own is the plot.

Little changed between Severus and Harry in the months that followed. Severus watched the boy grow and struggled to ignore that Harry became more like Lily with each passing day. Sometimes he regretted that he had to antagonize the boy to avoid compromising his position. Sometimes he rather enjoyed verbally sparring with the defiant child in class, watching the anger dance in those vivid emeralds. There was something unsettling about how much pleasure he drew from getting Harry worked up.

The last day of term arrived quickly, and Severus was amazed by how uncomfortable he felt when he thought of the people Harry was being sent to live with. As Harry leaned over Snape's desk to add his exam to the neatly stacked pile, long fingers wrapped deftly around his wrist. He froze, but didn't speak. Professor Snape looked up at him, expression rigidly controlled to hide the intense emotions coursing through him, and spoke so softly none of the other students looked up from their papers.

"Owl me if there are problems with Dursley. I will address them quietly and without hesitation."

Harry looked at him for a moment, utterly stunned.

"Potter!" Severus barked, though his eyes still burned with concern, "Stop daydreaming and get out of my sight."

Harry ignored the sniggering coming from the Slytherin tables and wandered dazedly out of the classroom, wondering what summer would hold.

Life with the Dursleys wasn't as hard as it used to be. Harry spent most of the summer confined to his room, and though he was still treated like a parasite, the physical abuse had stopped. He wasn't sure whether it was fear of Sirius or something Snape had done, but Vernon refused to even get close enough to touch Harry.

Harry pushed through the halls after the start of term feast, his footsteps drowned out by the buzz of excited conversation. He caught sight of the billowing robes and jet black hair disappearing down a flight of stairs and struggled to get past the crowd that milled mindlessly around him. Once Harry was out of the main hallway, he started to move faster. Professor Snape was walking at such a brisk pace that Harry wondered if the man was trying to get away from him intentionally, but dismissed the idea as utterly absurd. When he finally caught up, they walked side by side for a few paces before Harry spoke.

"Thank you, Professor. I don't know what you did to stop him, but…"

Severus stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to look at Harry. "Don't speak of it." His voice was sharp and serious.

Harry just nodded then watched as the man stormed swiftly away.

When Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire, Severus felt his blood turning to ice in his veins. He couldn't resist peeking quickly into the boy's mind, and saw nothing but shock and terror. Harry wanted nothing to do with the tournament, and Severus saw the hurt in his eyes when he was told he would have to compete. He was being forced to make a spectacle of himself by playing a deadly game for which he was completely unprepared.

Severus wanted to approach Harry, but his friends never left his side. Finally, he found himself resorting to rather undignified means.

As September drew to a close, he couldn't help but notice that the child had grown more and more restless and nervous. He couldn't resist putting extra pressure on the boy, looming over him at every possible opportunity. He tried to ignore the part of him that was thrilled by seeing the boy so flustered. Few classes passed before he managed to startle Harry enough that a spark shot out of his wand, causing his potion to burst into flames.

"Detention, Potter," he spat, words dripping with venom, "for setting my classroom on fire."

The Slytherins smirked, and some of them laughed at him openly. Then time blurred together and class was letting out. As Harry tried to exit, Snape caught his shoulder.

"Seven, Potter. Do not test my patience." The boy looked pale and thin, but didn't object. He hadn't looked terrible when returning to school, but since discovering that he would be competing in the Triwizard tournament, it was clear that his health had suffered.

He watched the boy taking inventory, trying desperately to think of an appropriate way to initiate meaningful conversation. Harry worked slowly, often stealing glances at the stoic man who carefully ignored him while pretending to grade papers.

The detention came to an end much too quickly for Severus' liking, or even for Harry's, though the boy couldn't put his finger on what made him long to stay. It was dangerous, much too dangerous, but the words leapt out by themselves.

"You will return tomorrow to compensate for your inexcusably slow pace."

Harry flushed, turning his eyes on his professor, infinite strands of green locking together in a single penetrating glare. "You know," he said, struggling to conceal the fury that bubbled into every word, "it's not like things have been easy lately, and the last thing I need is you punishing me when I've done nothing wrong."

"I'm sorry," Snape murmured before catching himself, steeling his gaze, "that you feel that way, Potter. Same time tomorrow." He called as Harry stormed out of the room.

Severus buried his face in his hands, knowing this was a mistake, but unable to stop himself from following the path his desperate imagination had drawn before him.

Harry didn't have Potions the next day. Each class Severus taught seemed to stretch into eternity, the hands on his watch creeping at an unbearably slow pace. By the time seven arrived, he felt thoroughly exhausted, though nothing unusual had transpired.

After dinner, Harry rushed in, barely on time. Severus took a breath, prepared to reprimand the boy, but the words caught in his throat as he froze beneath a glare that was unmistakably James'.

It made him want to punish the child so much more.

"Tonight," the words left his lips ever so softly, but somehow only sounded more dangerous, "you will be harvesting turtle parts." He offered the boy a sharp blade before drifting over to the supply closet to retrieve the untreated shipment he had recently received. Normally, he would reserve this task for his older students, but he couldn't resist the way Harry's face contorted with disgust. For a moment, he wondered what was wrong with him, but he quickly regained his composure and demonstrated the painstaking process of prying open the brittle shell without inflicting damage upon the jellylike innards.

The process, after the incredibly disgusting initial task, only grew more disgusting. Harry tried to imitate the stoic mask of the man who watched him with glittering black eyes but couldn't help but cringe each time his naked fingers plunged into another icy cavity, pulling out the digestive tract like the series of scarves that commonly appeared in muggle magic tricks.

He finished before the hour was over, and with impressive results. He had only damaged one specimen, and had harvested many useful ingredients. Severus couldn't help but be impressed with his manual dexterity and unwavering determination.

This was when the first of many truly disturbing thoughts crept in. He wondered what else those small, oddly skilled hands could accomplish when Harry set his mind to it.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: The only part of this story I own is the plot.

A/N: I accidentally uploaded chapter 6 as chapter 5, but have fixed it now. Chapter 5 is the one you haven't read yet. Sorry! And I want to thank helloworld394 for catching that and letting me know :)

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"Not bad, Potter." Severus had to admit he was impressed with the child's obvious talent for preparing ingredients. He couldn't help but wonder why Harry had often done so poorly in his class.

"Thanks." Harry's posture was rigid and his voice conveyed no emotion, though Severus suspected that even now, Harry was being tortured by his own anger.

"Potter," he began tentatively, unsure how to approach the subject, "is something troubling you?"

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

"Do not," Snape intoned, voice dripping with venom, "walk away from me, Potter. You will stay right where you are until I see fit to dismiss you."

Harry stood still, but shot a furious glare.

Severus tried to shake off the cacophony of emotions that single glance set in motion. Gods, those eyes were haunting.

"I know you didn't want your name in the goblet." Snape said softly.

Harry suddenly looked much more interested.

"What makes you so sure?" The boy asked, his voice carrying the gentlest tremble.

"Suffice it to say I have my sources. I don't think what was done to you is acceptable, but sadly, regarding that matter, my hands are tied. The only thing of value I have to offer you is a place to hide from the other students. If things get to be too much, you may come here."

Harry was shocked. Why was the nasty bat being so nice to him? How could he possibly know how desperately Harry needed solace?

"You are dismissed now." Snape murmured.

For a short time they just stared at each other, the silence filled with unspoken questions, before Harry turned and left.

Harry's performance in class actually did improve slightly, and surprisingly, he rarely acted out enough to earn detentions. Most shocking of all, however, was the dreary Thursday afternoon that he decided to actually take his Potions Professor up on his offer.

Harry had just completed his first task the previous weekend, and the other students were treating him much better than they had been, but the sudden increase in unwanted attention seemed to grate on the boys nerves.

Severus was sitting at his desk, grading papers, when he heard the tentative knocking on his door.

"Enter." He murmured, expecting it would be Draco coming in to whine about a grade he had received on some assignment in another class. He was startled, to say the least, when those brilliant jade eyes glanced up from beneath the shock of dark hair. "To what do I owe this… pleasure?" Severus asked, drawing out the last word in a way that made it clear what he felt was far from positive.

"Er, sorry Professor. You said if I wanted somewhere to… to be away from the other students… I'm sorry. I'll just leave."

"No." The word rang out sharp, causing Harry to freeze, already halfway out into the hall. "You may stay. Just don't make a nuisance of yourself."

Harry shuffled uncomfortably to a table near the back of the room, where he sat to study quietly. Hours dragged by, and neither spoke. Finally, Severus cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow.

"I believe your friends will be expecting you at dinner shortly, Potter."

"Oh, right." Harry shoved his things into his bag and stalked clumsily out of the room, pausing at the door to mutter "Thanks."  
He was amazed to hear Snape, the dark and terrifying dungeon bat, chuckle softly. "I had no idea you were capable of remaining silent for extended periods of time. You may return as the need arises."

Harry turned his back before Snape could see the smile that had crept onto his face.

Severus was shocked by the frequency of the boy's visits. The other students, he mused, must be entirely unbearable for the child to seek refuge in such a hated place. Almost every day, once class had ended, Harry would make his way to the Potions room, sit quietly at one of the back tables, and go about his work.

Occasionally, Harry would migrate a table closer to the front of the room. It was a couple of weeks before he found himself sitting in the front row. Snape did not comment.

More days passed. Harry came sometimes on weekends now, during almost any free time that wasn't forcefully claimed by his friends. It reached a point where Severus actually found the boys sudden desire for solitude concerning.

"Harry," he said quietly on one of these afternoons, "I do not have a problem with your presence here, but I must admit it's somewhat concerning that you've been spending so little time with your friends."

Harry just shrugged. "I never really had friends before Hogwarts. I guess when I'm overwhelmed it's just easier for me to be alone."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Does my presence not count?"

Harry was unfazed. "Not in the same way. You don't fret and fawn and fuss over me like I'm some adorable, pathetic little pet."

It was odd to hear the boy speak of his beloved companions that way. Severus of all people could understand a desire for solitude, but he was still shocked to see someone so young rejecting the support of others when facing a challenge that could very well end in his gristly death.

Extending such an offer was a bad idea. Eventually, someone was bound to find out, and there would be so many questions to answer, Severus knew he'd be in over his head. Still, he did not have it in him to turn the boy away.

Every time Harry visited, they would talk a little more, and Snape found himself amazed by the way the boy's parents came out in him. He had his father's stubbornness, his defiance, his sense of fierce loyalty to only a select few, but at the same time, he had his mother's heart. He was pure in ways Severus would not expect from a child who'd been told he'd essentially saved the world. He was tormented by injustices, and not just those inflicted upon those he cared about. He was idealistic, almost painfully so, but somehow, it was almost… refreshing.

So when the time came, Severus decided, he would stand his ground and let the pieces fall where they may. What loomed on the horizon made him nervous, but he wasn't willing to let the wizarding world's last hope crumble beneath the strain of having nowhere to turn.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: The only part of this story I own is the plot.

Warning: Things are about to start getting slashy.

---------------

Watching the second task was pure, unadulterated torment. Severus worried about Harry's safety, and the moments that elapsed between the end of the allotted hour and Harry's emergence seemed to stretch on for days. Hardest of all was hiding his tension from those around him, pretending he did not care either way whether the boy lived or died. pretending, perhaps, that it would please him to see harm befall Harry.

The strength of the anxiety Severus felt truly shocked him. He cared for Harry in a way that was almost… unhealthy. He was glad when the Tri-wizard tournament ended, and the year drew to a close. Voldemort's return was something he had been dreading since the night when Harry was only a year old and the man had fallen. He worried now more than he ever had that the boy would not be safe, and watching him leave the castle, to return to relatives whose abuse had gone completely unnoticed, was agony.

He found himself, during those long, balmy months, thinking incessantly of the boy, even listening in on conversations among other members of the Order in search of new information on Harry's well-being.

Their reunion was awkward, to say the least. Harry would not meet his eyes and he knew the tentative understanding that had formed between them the previous year had now come to an end.

The reason for Harry's change in attitude, however, was something Severus could have never anticipated. Not long after he left Hogwarts, Harry had the first of a series of rather disturbing dreams.

At first, he thought these were some strange manifestation of Voldemort's presence in his mind, but unfortunately, as time went on, Harry became intensely aware of the differences between dreams and visions of his own creation and those that simply invaded his mind but were not a part of it.

They started as boring, almost innocent images of Harry sitting in the back of the Potions classroom, studying in silence while he stole occasional glances at the man who graded papers in the front of the room. These were replaced by dreams of struggling to concentrate in class while the professor strode past tables, sometimes looming over Harry.

It drove him nearly insane that his mind was so consistently occupied with thoughts of someone he wanted to loathe and ignore. Then, one night, things reached a whole new, completely unbearable level.

_Harry was bent over a cauldron, struggling to get the viscous liquid within to match the description in the text. He felt billowing robes brush against his back, and knew without looking who stood behind him. His hand started to tremble, and the glass jar of desiccated bubbotubber pods he'd been holding shattered on the stone floor. _

"_Detention, Potter." The voice in his ear was silky and dangerous, daring Harry to protest, stirring up a whirlwind of unwanted and thoroughly pleasurable sensations._

_Time blurred together and suddenly Harry was terribly nervous, lifting his hand to knock on the heavy door._

"_Enter." The voice filled his stomach with butterflies, which he fought hard to ignore. He looked expectantly at his potions master, but was simply given a sinkful of used supply jars to clean without magic. The harsh cleaning solution stung his hands, and he almost dropped the vial he was scrubbing when he heard that voice in his ear, close enough for hot breath to tickle his neck._

"_Mister Potter," Snape drawled, and Harry knew he was being toyed with, felt completely helpless and exposed as goose bumps raised on his arms, "is the cleanser damaging your skin?"_

_Harry nodded, dumbly. "Are there gloves I can use, sir?"_

"_Potter," he reprimanded, "you were taught a charm in this class, in second year no less, to protect your skin while working with corrosive substances. Have you forgotten, or were you simple too daft to pay attention in the first place?"_

"_I'm sorry, sir." Harry's face was hot with shame, and he wondered why he felt none of his usual defiant rage._

_Professor Snape sighed. "Very well. Come here, boy. We'll fix your hands."_

_Harry was shocked that the Dungeon Bat was being so nice, but when he looked down at his red, cracked hands, he understood that he did, in fact, need to treat them if he expected to be able to do much of anything._

_Harry gasped as long, agile fingers caught his wrist, massaged soothing balm into the irritated skin. He glanced up into Snape's stoic face. Black eyes bored into his with intensity that made his head swim, and something indefinable drew Harry forward, until their lips met._

"_STOP!" Harry screamed at himself, but his mouth opened to allow Severus' tongue entrance, and blinding passion washed over him._

Harry woke up gasping for air, trying desperately to shake off the most unwelcome arousal his dream left in its wake. 

When Harry arrived at No. 12 Grimmauld Place and discovered that he would be living under the same roof as the man who filled his strange and upsetting dreams, he could bear nothing but to look away and pray summer would end quickly.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: The only part of this story I own is the plot.

---------------

Summer seemed to drag on forever. Harry was keeping more from Ron and Hermione than he ever had before, and he knew Snape could tell something was bothering him.

Sirius even took the boy aside a few times, trying to get him to talk about whatever was clearly distracting him. Finally, Harry decided to tell him about what was happening, in the vaguest terms possible.

"I've been having weird dreams. I'm not talking about anything to do with Voldemort; those feel different. I'm talking about dreams that I know are mine, but wish I wouldn't have."

"Are you having nightmares, Harry?"

"Sometimes, but they don't bother me quite as much as… _other _things I dream about."

Sirius groaned. "The Dursleys never told you anything, did they Harry?"

"About what?"

"You're having sex dreams, aren't you?"

Harry turned scarlet, but nodded.

Sirius looked even more uncomfortable. "I had a feeling I'd be having this talk with you. I'm glad you came to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of. It just means you're getting older and starting to think about things that might not have been on your mind as much before."

"Sirius," Harry's tongue felt swollen in his mouth, "it's not just that I'm _having_ dreams about… erm… that sort of thing. The dreams I've been having are pretty weird."

"Harry, I love you, but please, for the sake of my sanity, keep the details to yourself. Dreaming about strange things doesn't make you a different person. It's completely normal to dream about situations you don't necessarily want to happen in real life."

"Are you sure? I'm having some pretty weird ones."

The older man put warm hands on Harry's shoulders. "Trust me. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. I turned out alright, didn't I?"

"Well yes, but-"

"Harry, you can't even begin to comprehend some of the things that crept into my head while I was sleeping at your age. Do you understand?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Sirius." He did feel better knowing that everyone had unsettling sex dreams sometimes, but he still suspected that having the same messed up scenario play itself over and over in slightly different forms was a bad sign.

Running into the gloomy object of his nighttime lust didn't make things any easier for Harry. He could tell that Snape was hurt by the way he was being avoided, even when no one else was around to see them interact. He had given Harry a place to hide from a world that swarmed up around him and pressed in close, suffocating and dizzy. He had listened to Harry's worries, reassured him, and never repeated a word of it to anyone. Severus Snape, Harry knew, had even done something to stop the abuse he was suffering at the hands of his uncle, and still, Harry couldn't bring himself to face the man.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked, giving Harry a worried look. Hermione had gone downstairs to get more dust cloths while Harry and Ron continued fighting to rid the attic of doxies.

"Yeah, just a bit tired."

"You were tossing and turning a lot last night."

"Yeah, I had some pretty weird dreams."

"Not having dreams about You Know Who, are you?" Ron whispered, leaning closer.

"No. The dreams had nothing to do with Voldemort, but they were still kind of disturbing."

"Nightmares?"

Harry sighed. "Ron, do you ever have dreams about doing things with people you would never do things with in real life?"

"Sex dreams?"

Blushing, Harry nodded.

"Of course I do. You know, just the other night I had this dream that I was in the library at Hogwarts with Hermione, and we started making out, and she starts moaning, then Madam Pince comes over and starts shushing us! Hermione won't shut up, so the old bag says if we don't cut it out she's going to join in!"

Harry shuddered. "Ron, that's horrible."

"You're telling me. The librarian got her top off before I woke up in a cold sweat! Sometimes I think my brain is out to get me."

"Have you ever had a dream about doing stuff with someone you normally never, ever would think about like that?"

"Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"I swear."

"I had one about Luna Lovegood once. And that's not even the worst part! In the dream, there were all these wonky imaginary beasts watching."

"What about… Have you ever had one about another guy?"

"Nope. I don't swing that way so I guess I don't really get dreams about it."

Harry swallowed hard. "Right. Of course. That was a silly question."

At dinner that night, Harry couldn't help but notice the way Snape's lips closed around his fork when he bit down, and the elegant curve of his neck as he swallowed. Ron's words hung in his head like smoke that wouldn't clear. Did having dreams like that make Harry gay?

"Harry dear, are you feeling alright?" Molly Weasley startled Harry out of his silent ponderings.

"Er, yeah, fine."

"You've barely touched your dinner."

"I'm just tired." He started shoveling food in, and she looked satisfied, but Hermione was now shooting him worried glances, and he knew she would corner him at the first opportunity to ask questions about his scar. He didn't know how he would convince her that wasn't the problem, but he wasn't about to tell _anyone_ what the real trouble was.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: The only part of this story I own is the plot.

---------------

Harry woke up covered in sweat, mind swimming with images of his Potions Professor he dearly wished to forget. He kicked off the covers. It was dark outside and Ron was still snoring softly on the other side of the room. Harry wasn't in any hurry to get back to sleep, so he slid out of bed and crept downstairs to the kitchen. He pulled a butterbeer out of the fridge and flicked the light on. He almost jumped out of his skin when he turned to face the table and saw Snape sitting there rigidly with a small glass and a bottle of firewhiskey in front of him.

"Bloody hell!"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Good evening, Potter."

"What are you doing?"

"The same thing as you are, I believe."

"I'm not drinking alone in the dark."

Snape raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at the butterbeer in Harry's hand. "It would seem that I'm no longer drinking alone."

"I can't sleep." 'Can't' was close enough to 'won't' for the purposes of this conversation.

The older man sighed. "Sit down, Potter. It's rude to stand there gaping."

Harry sat. "I'm sorry, sir."

Severus downed the contents of his glass. "I've grown accustomed to your lack of manners."

Harry's cheeks burned, but he decided to simply change the subject. He opened his drink and took a large swig before asking, "Why are you awake?"

Snape refilled his glass. Harry could smell the sharp liquid from across the table. "You of all people ought to know that sometimes it is simply not possible to sleep."

Harry shrugged, taking another drink of his butterbeer and gazing longingly at the firewhiskey. The twins usually managed to come up with some for Quidditch match after parties, but the kind they could get their hands on made Harry's eyes water. He had never seen an adult drinking the brand they got, and suspected it wasn't exactly the best. He wondered what the stuff Snape had tasted like. His butterbeer was almost gone now, and he was feeling a little braver.

"Can I have some?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can I try the firewhiskey?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean to ask whether you _may_ have some? I suppose you _could_ have some. I would hardly have the energy or the inclination to wrestle the bottle away from you if you simply _took _it, but I'm certainly not about to offer-"

Harry had decided this slightly slurred rant was as close to permission as he could dare to hope for, and was taking a drink out of the bottle. He shuddered with delight as the warmth travelled through his body. Yes, this was definitely better than the stuff Fred and George had.

Snape had slumped over, with his face in his palms. He let out an annoyed groan. "If you're going to steal my alcohol you should at least have the decency to drink it out of a glass like a civilized person. And if you ever tell anyone this happened, I will poison your pumpkin juice."

Harry, who had expected to have the bottle snatched away, grinned and got up to get a small glass. He sat back down and filled it, looking pleased with himself.

"When I said I was sorry earlier, I didn't mean about anything tonight. I meant this summer… About avoiding you and stuff, after everything you did for me last year."

"Were you avoiding me? I hadn't noticed." Severus lied, somewhat placated by the apology.

"I've had a lot going on, and it's just been hard really… being around anyone." That much was true. When he wasn't having disturbing sex dreams, Cedric's death played itself over and over in Harry's mind at night. He always woke up in the morning feeling exhausted and wretchedly guilty. Dudley had mocked him about the way he cried out during these dreams, and Ron worried, but Harry refused to talk about them with anyone. No one was willing to acknowledge the blood he knew he bore on his hands.

Snape nodded. His gaze was piercing and intense, but not angry, not harsh. Harry thought that if anyone could ever understand what he was going through now, maybe Snape did. "I know it must be hard for you, Harry."

The use of his first name didn't go unnoticed. He shrugged, unsure if he wanted to go on. He took another drink, and refilled his glass.

"This year's gonna be so weird."

"How so?"

"Having to pretend I hate you, for one thing." Harry was amazed by how easily the words came. He felt dreamy and warm from the alcohol. He had never been able to stomach more than a bit of the Firewhiskey he normally could get his hands on.

"Well, sadly, it's more important than ever that we keep up appearances."

"And Cedric…"

Harry was shocked when the normally cold man sitting across from him reached over the table to rest a heavy, long-fingered hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, you must never blame yourself for the blood shed in this war."

"You don't understand! I watched him die, Professor."

"Severus. And Harry, it doesn't matter. It's a miracle that you survived, and though it was foolish of you to risk your life for someone who could no longer be saved, bringing back his body was an incredibly noble thing to do. You may never fully understand the respect you showed his family by doing that, or the closure you offered that they may have otherwise never found."

Harry stared down at the table. He had suffered for months with the fervent belief that Cedric's death was his fault. Severus was the first person to even make him think things might not be that way. Had his actions truly been more honorable than they had been futile and pathetic? For the first time in months, terrible, chaotic months, Harry felt like he had something to hold onto.

"Do you really believe that, Professor?"

"Yes, Harry, I do. Though I really wish you'd stop calling me 'Professor' while you're drinking my Firewhiskey. It makes me feel even more morally depleted than usual."

Harry chuckled. The unfathomable onyx eyes that usually held nothing but bitterness and loathing looked back at him softly, reassuring. Somehow, Harry found more comfort in this man's words, because he knew they weren't designed to offer comfort, because he knew they were truly what Severus Snape believed.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

"Snape?" Severus cringed, but at least the teen drinking his Firewhiskey had stopped calling him "professor".

"Yes, Harry." His voice was gentle, despite the strain this interaction was making him feel. He should have taken the bottle from Harry and put it away, then holed up in his room for the rest of the night. He cursed his own weakness. The eyes had done him in, just like they always did. He was addicted to the feeling that came with staring into the intricately twined strands of color, the jade, the emerald, the dark, the light. In the dim kitchen he remembered nights he would lay awake talking to Lily.

"You… you knew my parents, right?"

Severus groaned. Did the child now read minds? "I knew your mother."

Harry looked confused. "But my parents were in the same year. Didn't you-"

"Not like I knew her. James was… suffice it to say I wasn't close with your father. I met Lily when we were both children. She was quite possibly the kindest person I've ever known. Her heart was like nothing I'd ever encountered, and her mind was even more incredible."

Harry listened intently, face tightening as though struggling to comprehend a particularly difficult equation. Suddenly, understanding sparked behind his eyes and Severus knew what was going to come next.

"Were you-"

_Not now! _Severus thought, _I need a diversion, a distraction, anything…_

"I like men." _FUCK! Anything but that!_

Harry sputtered. "Professor?"

Severus struggled to maintain an impassive mask. "I presume I don't have to obliviate you to ensure your discretion in the matter? My preferences are in no way appropriate knowledge for my students."

"Of course, sir."

"Severus."

"Right." The boy's eyes were like saucers.

"I suspect you won't remember this in the morning, which is fortunate, as I've had a fair amount to drink and it would truly be a shame if an attempt to erase the memory of our discussion were to go awry and leave you completely and utterly useless."

Harry shuddered.

"Oh, lighten up."

"Sir, I think you just threatened to destroy my mind."

"For the love of god, don't call me Sir!"

"Severus." The name still felt weird in Harry's mouth. "Can I ask you something?"

The older man pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to wince away from the headache blossoming behind his temples. "If I said you couldn't, would it stop you?"

"When did you first… That is, I mean, how old were you when you knew you liked-other-guys?" The last three words tumbled out of Harry's mouth tangled together, almost impossible to understand. But Severus knew what Harry was asking.

"I think I always knew, always suspected, on some level. The feelings, despite what many insist on believing, are perfectly normal, completely natural." Harry looked as if he were about to say something, but Severus interrupted with a heavy "However, this isn't a conversation a teacher should have with a student."

"I thought you wanted to dismiss that formality for tonight."

"It would still be crossing a line, Harry, to go into much more detail than I already have."

Harry hated himself for wondering exactly which line that was, and whether crossing it would be all that bad. He stared at the table and took another drink.

"You should go to bed, Harry."

"Why bother? It's not like I'll go to sleep. I'd rather be down here. At least it's marginally less lonely."

"You have trouble sleeping?"

"Dreams."

Severus quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Harry mumbled.

"Very well. Perhaps _I _should retreat to my room and get some rest.

Harry's eyes were pleading for him to stay.

"Please, don't make me ask." Harry muttered.

"You don't want to be alone."

Both knew, though neither would ever speak of it aloud, that nothing was lonelier than those inky, languid hours between dusk and dawn when everyone else was deeply asleep. Harry would often look out the barred window at the Dursleys' and whisper to the stars, knowing there was no one to hear him, even if he could find the right words to talk to another person. Severus had spent many a night walking along the lake at Hogwarts, watching the sparkling reflection of the flawless sky and _remembering_, remembering the few things in his life that had touched him deeply enough to leave a lasting impression. He could count these things on one hand. His mother had shown him what love could be, before he had watched her perish. His father had shown him the cost of weakness, that he was never to let his emotions rise to the surface. Lily had shown him beauty and light and kindness, that there were things worth living for, worth fighting for. She had also shown him that while there was beauty and perfection in this world, it could never be captured, and would always cause as much pain as it ever had joy. That's what had sent him reeling, until he crashed into the penultimate person (though using that term was rather generous) who would leave a mark on his soul.

Voldemort had shown him the artificial side of the supposedly deep affection people lavished on each other, taught him to be jaded and reserved, taught him the importance of survival, even though surviving was only living to hurt another day. Voldemort had shown him the flaws in the world that might eat him alive.

And then there was Dumbledore. The man had trusted him without question, had recognized the look in his eyes and known, with no shadow of a doubt, that Severus was a man who had made a terrible, terrible mistake. The man had taught him kindness, and that much like the night sky, the all-consuming darkness of reality was punctuated with tiny points of light, enough to guide him, to warm him, enough to make staying alive a worthwhile endeavor.

He stared at the disheveled, inebriated teen sitting across the table from him, glad those sparkling green eyes weren't focused on him in this moment.

And he wondered, could Harry be one of those rare people who altered him deeply, fully, irrevocably?

He brushed the thought away as drunken rambling, but still it lingered in the back of his mind, unwilling to be banished completely.


End file.
